


Quandary

by 64K



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Arguing, Awkward Romance, BUT I LOVE THEM, Denial of Feelings, Developing Relationship, FMA Rarepair Week, No Such Thing As A Happy Ending, Other, Verbal Abuse, abstract depictions of violence, power struggles, they're bad people
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2019-01-04 04:18:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12161388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/64K/pseuds/64K
Summary: Too human, too immortal. They're caught in a situation where nothing can be admitted, where every interaction is carefully calculated, and where the concept of "love" is an impossibility.Written for FMA Rarepair week 2017.





	1. Value

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for FMA Rarepair Week Day 1. I used the theme "Is there anything I can do?" and (tried to) incorporate the bonus theme, "Meet Ugly."
> 
> A little bit of context: this story is a part of an AU in which Kimblee "obtains" Envy's jar from Mei before she gets down into the tunnel below Central. The worm that Envy's been reduced to is quite different from the powerful being that Kimblee is used to, and Kimblee isn't very pleased at how far Envy has fallen...

An ugly thing, full of anger and bitterness, trapped in a jar like an animal, like an insect.  
  
Kimblee found it so, so, amusing.  
  
“I hate you,” whispered the worm, pacing back and forth, bumping pitifully against the sides of the jar, perhaps hoping to break through the glass and escape. “I hate you. Traitor. Just let me out; let me out and I’ll--”  
  
“I won’t,” said Kimblee with a smile. “You see, I’ve always wanted a pet.”  
  
Envy stared, bug-eyed, and Kimblee stared right back. “You’ve got some nerve,” muttered the creature, finally glancing off to the side. “I thought that you were loyal at least-- but I guess that was a lie. I guess that everything else was fake too.”  
  
“That depends,” said Kimblee, tucking the jar under his arm. “Because all of my lies are conditional upon yours. You’re fake, I’m fake right back. We’re both frauds, you know; nasty, nasty people, so stop feeling sorry for yourself. You really should have known that something like this would happen.”  
  
They really shouldn’t be so surprised. Envy was not an innocent. They should have known…  
  
… should have known… what, exactly?  
  
That Kimblee would seize this opportunity, he supposed; that he would take advantage of Envy’s vulnerable state.  
  
And really, it was so much fun. They were furious, they couldn’t get away. It was…  
  
...just how he’d felt before, sometimes.  
  
“You left me in prison for a very long time,” he said conversationally. He skipped over a puddle-- taking a petty bit of pride in how he managed to keep his clothes clean in this grungy alley. “I would sometimes wonder if you had forgotten your promise,” he said, eyeing the jar. “But I stayed content; I had faith that you would come.”  
  
He wasn’t quite able to read Envy’s expression; he wasn’t especially well-versed in the art of recognizing the emotions of a worm. But he was quite sure that he was making them uncomfortable, at the very least. “And you did come,” continued Kimblee. “Just as you promised, you came. Of course, seven years means nothing to an immortal. But, for humans… well, time is worth more than money, more than love, or anything else that most people want. I gave you seven years of my time. And you gave me freedom to use my alchemy however I wanted. You were a fascinating employer.”  
  
“But, you know,” he said, fingers tapping idly on the jar, “that time would have been valuable. I, in my modest opinion, could have been useful to you. We could have done so much together, like what we used to do. Now,” he continued, “in these months of your absence, I’ve been working directly with the Fuhrer. And he, at least, keeps in contact with me, tells me what to do, makes sure that I’m actually capable of carrying out the jobs that he gives me. And I realize now, in these months that you’ve been gone, that you were quite irresponsible. You don’t value me.”  
  
“You… you don’t know the half of it.” Envy stared, stiff and tense, and Kimblee could now see their emotions more clearly-- anger, disbelief, _self-reproach_? “I have other things in my life besides you. I have many, many things to do, and forgive me if babysitting a human isn’t exactly at the top of my list. I have a thousand responsibilities--”  
  
“But you’re not being responsible.” Kimblee shook his head. “You’re not. You’re here with me, being useless, disgraceful…”  
  
“Give me a break.” Envy’s voice cracked pathetically, and Kimblee’s… heart… dropped, was it…? at that unexpected reaction-- surprising, but it was just so pitiable, that’s all. “Your expectations are too high. I… things have been hard, okay? My… my sister’s gone, I was supposed to do her work, I… I can’t do anything right.” All of the tenseness had gone out of them, letting go of whatever pride had fueled their anger before. “I’m…” They swallowed. “I’m sorry, okay? Don’t… don’t hate me.”  
  
Oh, how the mighty have fallen. What a pathetic display.  
  
Kimblee almost felt sorry for them.  
  
“I don’t hate you,” he said, almost kindly. “Why would I waste my energy on something so pointless?”  
  
“So… I’m pointless.” Envy stared, limp and defeated, through the glass.  
  
“Absolutely not,” said Kimblee (that sudden light that re-appeared in Envy’s eyes was so satisfying to see). “It’s pointless to force myself to do something that I’m not at all inclined to do.”  
  
Envy had learned their lesson by now, he was sure. At least, for now.  
  
“I’m not going to overlook all of the things that you’ve done for me, even if you don’t value them as highly as I do. I’m smarter than that, Envy, and I hope that you are as well. And now, my dear; what can I do for you?” he asked with a smile, fingers playing at the lid of the jar.  
  
Envy blinked, looking cautiously towards him. “Let… me… out?”  
  
“How do I know that you won’t take advantage of me?” Kimblee asked, but it was a rhetorical question; the lid was already unscrewed, and Envy was, cautiously, then with more confidence in every step, exiting the jar, walking up his arm, perching on his shoulder.  
  
“I won’t,” muttered Envy, curling up in the corner where Kimblee’s neck and shoulder met. “One soul wouldn’t do me much good, anyway. And I like you better this way.”  
  
“Excellent,” said Kimblee. He dropped the jar; it rolled against the alley wall, slightly cracked, and no longer useful. But they didn’t need it anymore. “Let’s celebrate this as a return to form, shall we?” he asked. “We’ll work together in this, just like we used to.”  
  
“Yeah,” Envy said quietly, as the two of them strode through the alley. But Kimblee sensed the hesitance in their voice, and knew that they both were thinking the same thoughts: the chance of them sustaining this agreement for the long-term was slim. But this, at least, was a step in the right direction, and, for now, that was enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading; I was really excited when I heard about the Rarepair week this year, since it gave me an excuse to write for these two. I didn't get something done for every day, unfortunately (well, I did, but most of it was garbage), so I'll be posting every other day. Thanks again!


	2. Trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's for day three of the Rarepair week-- I wrote it with the theme "First Kiss" in mind.
> 
> Yet another AU here (it's very difficult, unless I want to set everything during/before Ishval, to fit anything into canon-- the tight timeline is something that I love about FMA:B, but it's frustrating for me as a Kimvy shipper...) All that's different about this one is that Kimblee was let out of prison earlier than in canon, and that Envy's fight with Ling and Lan Fan didn't go quite as "smoothly" as it did in canon.

Father was going to kill them.  
  
He’d do to them what he did to Greed; they’d be dipped into the inferno, melted down to the essence of jealousy, sent back to where they’d come from.  
  
No, no, no… he loved them more than that, didn’t he? He wouldn’t…  
  
Curse that foreign boy, that Xingese ‘warrior;’ he played dirty; his friends played dirty; it wasn’t fair--  
  
A fresh wave of pain crashed down, and Envy fell against the alley wall, chest heaving, a choked-back groan escaping their lips. Red sparks danced around their midsection, but it only made things worse; the blade that penetrated through their stomach cut through every new layer of organs and flesh that attempted to grow back.  
  
It was fine, though. They just had to get this thing _out_ , that’s all, and then they’d be fine, and back to their ordinary self.  
  
Envy’s hands were most definitely not shaking as they gripped the handle and pulled--  
  
They swallowed a scream, knees dropping to the ground. Black spots clouded their vision, and Envy coughed, making no effort to stop the mouthful of blood from spattering onto the filthy alley ground. They choked back a sob. It hurt too much; it was in too deep, the steep curve of the blade only caused fresh damage as it was removed.  
  
Those Xingese warriors had gotten the best of them; their Stone shouldn’t be faltering like this.  
  
Now, if they were like _Greed_ , or _Pride_ , or _Lust_ , this would be nothing, but they were only sorry little Envy, who couldn’t even get rid of a couple of humans (it should have been easy, right?) and had fled, wounded, like a coward.  
  
Pathetic, pathetic, _useless_ … as long as they couldn’t get this thing out, they’d be stuck in this endless loop; their Stone would keep obstinately working away at healing a wound that only made itself worse every time the flesh grew back… they couldn’t keep it up forever.  
  
Lust would help, right?  
  
No, she was busy, being _useful_.  
  
Pride was right, Pride was right…  
  
They just had to get back home.That was the first step. Gluttony would be there; he could… he could do something. He’d been there for the fight, in any case; he knew that those Xingese dogs had put up a rough fight; he would…  
  
Envy didn’t even know if they could make it back.  
  
Maybe if they transformed; if they turned into their true--  
  
No, not that ugly thing-- and Envy sincerely doubted that their stone could even sustain holding that form for long.  
  
They leaned against the wall, desperately trying to gather their thoughts together. Where exactly were they? Could they possibly make it home? They’d run away without thinking, paying no heed to where they had gone, as long as it was away from people who would hurt them, and out of sight.  
  
Envy stared into the red brick wall opposite them, trying to make sense of where they were. The area did seem familiar…  
  
They’d driven here, days ago, hadn’t they?  
  
With…  
  
Oh, yes.  
  
_He’d_ be useful, wouldn’t he? He couldn’t be anything else; he couldn’t refuse anything Envy requested.  
  
He’d help… wouldn’t he?

* * *

 

 The kettle began to sing, and Kimblee arose from his easy chair, folding the newspaper in his hands and placing it on the table beside him. There hadn’t been much to speak of in the news as of late, despite all of the political unrest, making Kimblee’s evening paper ritual far less exciting than it used to be. Government censorship must be getting tighter, he supposed. It was fortunate that he got his news from a far more reliable source...  
  
Kimblee poured some of the steaming water into his teapot. He’d chosen chai tea this evening- he was in the mood for something a little more exotic than his usual choices of western-style teas (and a change from his usual black coffee-- he’d remembered a few days after his prison release that it wasn’t the wisest choice to drink coffee in the evening!). The spicy scent drifted upwards, and he inhaled slowly. He didn’t appreciate the simple pleasures like this as deeply as he should, and, this evening was determined to enjoy all of them slowly and fully.  
  
Someone began pounding the door to the outdoor stairwell, heavily, frantically.  
  
Kimblee stared curiously towards the origin of the noise– was it worth investigating? The perpetrator might leave if left alone. But the knocking didn’t stop; it only slowed, growing weaker with every beat.  
  
He might as well see what he was wanted for.  
  
Kimblee opened the door slowly, curiously, peeking through the crack of the door. There was someone leaning against the doorframe, and the alchemist smelled the familiar scent of blood. “Can I help you?” he began, intrigued by the situation at hand.  
  
Familiar violet eyes looked up through the darkness of the stairwell, meeting his-- but they were far wider, far more desperate than Kimblee had ever seen before. “K-Kimblee… can I stay here for a bit?”  
  
Goodness, was that blood coming from _Envy_? A long-forgotten feeling from ages past began to stir up in Kimblee’s stomach, and, instinctively, he pulled the shaking homunculus inside, locking and bolting the door.  
  
Kimblee held the homunculus awkwardly-- they were tense in his arms, breathing in short, erratic gasps. Blood dripped steadily to the floor, staining the floorboards. Kimblee ran his gaze over the homunculus’ body-- what could have caused them this kind of damage? The worst wound was evident immediately-- a curved sword was impaled through their stomach-- but nearly every part of them was hurt in some way; it seemed like all of their energy was going towards attempting to heal the most serious wound, ignoring the smaller abrasions.  
  
Kimblee came to his senses, and, in a slow, awkward movement that was more of a waltz than anything, he maneuvered Envy over to his couch, laying them down on their side.  
  
“What did you do?” Kimblee hissed. Leaving Envy alone on the couch, he dashed towards his small closet, pulling out towels. He quickly returned, kneeling beside them, pressing the towel to their wound. “I thought you could heal yourself… what on earth have you been doing?”  
  
“I...I…” Envy gasped at Kimblee’s touch, wincing as he held the towel to the wound on their torso, wrapping it around the protruding handle of the barbaric weapon. “I got into a fight… th-the details aren’t important,” they said harshly at Kimblee’s bewildered expression. “My… my stone’s running out, though… I can’t heal… not when there’s something… something stuck in me.”  
  
“You should have asked your father for help,” said Kimblee irritably. The blood was staining his couch badly-- he doubted that he would be able to remove the stain properly.  
  
“He… he… I can’t...” Envy trailed off, eyes shutting. “He… doesn’t have mercy for failures like me.”  
  
Kimblee raised an eyebrow. “And I do?”  
  
“I… you’re a human,” stuttered Envy, “and they all… they all have that capacity.”  
  
A fallacious assumption. But quite an interesting one.  
  
“Pride’d rip me to pieces if he saw me like this…” Envy mumbled, hands tentatively pressing at the wound. “But you… you’ll take care of me, right?”  
  
The homunculus was delirious, it seemed– making such outrageous assumptions. “And why would you think that? You must have a great deal of faith in me,” said Kimblee quietly. “I’m a lowly human-- one of those that you despise. Not to mention that you have a Philosopher’s Stone inside of you. In your current state, I could probably take it from you. Even if it doesn’t have much power left in it, it would still be useful.”  
  
Kimblee’s hand had somehow migrated upwards, brushing loose strands of hair away from Envy’s eyes. Their forehead was burning, and that odd twinge in Kimblee’s stomach reappeared. Poor, poor, pitiful little homunculus.  
  
“Better you have it than any of my siblings,” muttered Envy. Their eyes followed the motions of Kimblee’s hand, back and forth, back and forth… “I f-figured that you’d thrown in your lot with me, and… you know… you’re very special to… very special. You’re not like other humans… I mean--”  
  
A contradiction of terms.  
  
Envy stared miserably through Kimblee, then swallowed. “I think I can trust you, that’s all.”  
  
Well, that was flattering, to say the least. Kimblee allowed the slightest of smiles to creep across his face, and continued to stroke Envy’s hair, now more softly than before. No sense in stopping if it was keeping them at ease. “Well, then. I’ll help you if I’m able. But I’m not exactly well-acquainted with homunculus anatomy-- what should I do first?”  
  
“J-just pull this thing out of me. I just... can’t get it out on my own, but I can probably heal from there.”  
  
“Alright.” It didn’t seem like the smartest thing to do, at least in Kimblee’s opinion, but Envy was probably the authority on how their own body healed.  
  
Kimblee pressed a hand down on Envy’s stomach, the other grasping the handle of the weapon. “You might want something to hold onto. This will hurt–”  
  
“I know,” interrupted Envy. “Just get it over with. This isn’t the first time that I’ve been hurt like this.”

* * *

 

Envy was gasping horribly, but it was done. The blood was flowing steadily, but Kimblee covered the wound tightly, and it seemed that it would slow down before long.  
  
  
“Feel alright?” Kimblee whispered. His blood-stained fingers ventured back into Envy’s hair, untangling the damp strands.  
  
Envy nodded forcefully. “Yeah… yeah,” they said, gasping out in between swallowed sobs. “I’m sorry for asking you to do all this… look at this mess… man, I…”  
  
“It’s alright,” said Kimblee, lowering his head, face inches from Envy’s. “I’m glad to help… just for the satisfaction of knowing that you trust me.”  
  
“Yeah,” breathed Envy, closing their eyes. “I do, and I…”  
  
They trailed away, their eyes closing, face flushed (with fever, surely), and Kimblee watched them with fondness. Envy was rather... cute like this, when they weren’t lording their power over him, when they weren’t threatening him, ordering him to do this and that. Here at their most vulnerable, they were showing another range of emotions that Kimblee had never seen before, despite their tendency to go from zero to ten at the drop of a hat.  
  
“You can sleep on my bed,” said Kimblee eventually. “This couch is disgusting.”  
  
“Th-thanks.” Envy struggled to get off of the couch, clutching the towel to their body, but their legs wobbled, and they fell back with a thud. Without warning, Kimblee tucked an arm under Envy’s shoulders, the other finding its way to the crook of their knees.  
  
“Don’t carry me, stupid,” muttered Envy, but a smile coloured their face nonetheless. “You’re going to strain your back.”  
  
“I’m not as weak as you think,” said Kimblee softly. It was odd to feel so… kind, so merciful like this, but he would enjoy the novelty while it lasted. It was odd, though, and perhaps ironic, that the person that he would feel this way towards was someone who thirsted for blood as much, if not more, than he did.  
  
They reached his room, and Kimblee nudged the door open with his shoulder. He’d left the lamp on inside, and its calming pale yellow light spread its rays throughout the room. He laid the tiny figure down on his bed, pulling the blanket over top of them. He could see a pale red light flashing around them now, and he knew now that they were healing themself.  
  
“I’ll see you in the morning,” he said, kneeling down beside the bed. He admired Envy’s face– all sharp angles and cold intent… and… vulnerability, strangely-- there were tears struggling to escape from their tightly closed eyes, leaving trails in the dirt on their cheeks. It was an intriguing look, but one that was not suited for them, and Kimblee brought his hand to Envy’s cheek, wiping a tear from their eye. “What’s wrong?”  
  
He expected them to jerk away or to strike him, but Envy only stiffened. “N-nothing,” they said. “It’s fine; I...I just…” They stopped, coughing in their throat, then continued. “I really didn’t have anyone else…so thank you, Crimson Lotus; thanks for being someone that I....”  
  
It was hard to hear them; their words died away, and the sentence was left unfinished. Kimblee leaned in closer, his hand reaching up, barely touching Envy’s jaw. “That you… what?” he whispered, looking down on Envy’s face, their sapphire eyes wide and almost innocent. Wasn’t it funny, how young and weak this creature really was?  
  
He could feel the pulse in Envy’s wrist (which had somehow made its way into his hand) racing. “That I…”  
  
Kimblee kissed them.  
  
It was all rather sudden-- Kimblee had surprised himself, and for one terrifying second, Kimblee was certain that he’d made a mistake-- Envy tensed beneath him, their breaths rapid and shallow. Kimblee drew back, his face still hovering inches from Envy’s, unsure of himself, trying to read Envy’s expression… the homunculus stared into his eyes, shocked, eyes unblinking. The next second, the tension underneath his hands was almost gone (it was never _all_ gone with Envy, even at their most gregarious), and Envy’s iron grip pulled at his collar, and their warm mouth was against his. Envy’s lips were chapped and dry, and Kimblee felt pity for them, that they didn’t have enough strength even to heal such a minor inconvenience.  
  
Odd that his face should be heating up so-- there was really nothing to be shy about, was there?  
  
“You’re… welcome,” he murmured into Envy’s mouth, ignoring the burning heat of his face (a mere chemical reaction; it didn’t mean anything to somebody like him). “My… life would quite… dull without...” His words died away. He couldn’t think of anything else to say… he couldn’t even confirm that the words that he’d just said were true for certain. But Kimblee was sure that, if Envy truly were to die, there would be an empty feeling somewhere inside him, a longing to talk to the one person that he didn’t need to pretend to be somebody else around, to spend time with the one person who seemed to respect him, perhaps even to--  
  
Kimblee started, pulling away. “Th-That’s enough. You need rest. It’s… it’s been a long night. I’m going to go clean up, so call out if you need me.”  
“‘Kay,” said Envy, whose voice seemed very small as Kimblee made his way away from the bed, closing the door part of the way. “Thanks again, Crimson. I owe...you...one…” Their voice trailed away, slurring as they fell asleep.  
  
It was a pity that he felt such a need to leave so abruptly like that; he didn’t want to worry Envy in any way. But he was feeling very odd at the moment. Envy needed rest, in any case, and any further business could wait until the morning.

* * *

 

It wasn’t until nine the next morning that Envy emerged from the room, hair disheveled, still pale, but a far cry from the pathetic creature that had crawled to Kimblee’s apartment last night.  
  
Kimblee lowered his book, fixing his gaze on Envy. “Well, look who decided to wake up. How are you feeling?”  
  
Envy scowled, and Kimblee smirked. “Stop making that face,” muttered the homunculus. “I’m fine. I’m going now, so…”  
  
“Alright,” said Kimblee, returning to his book. “You’re very welcome, dear friend. Don’t get hurt again, now-- I might not be around to help you next time, so don’t get careless.”  
  
Kimblee could feel Envy staring at him, standing still, not bothering to move at all. “You know,” they muttered. “I wouldn’t put up with that kind of sass if it was anyone else. So I hope you feel special, Crimson.”  
  
Kimblee merely nodded. “Well, go on now,” he said, waving a hand carelessly. “You have work to do, I’m sure.”  
  
“...Yeah.” Envy turned to go, and Kimblee once again returned his gaze to his book.  
  
He heard the door close, and thudding footsteps echoed their way down the stairwell… and then slowed, hesitantly approaching his door once again. “Hey,” said Envy, slipping back in through the door. They looked at him wearily, the dark circles under their eyes clearly showing in the daylight. “What happened… let’s just forget that--”  
  
“Yes,” said Kimblee lightly. He only gave them a brief glance; it was better that way. “I know that you would never have considered such a thing if you were your usual self… so we’ll be back to business from now on, I suppose.”  
  
Envy nodded, almost imperceptibly, and vanished through the door.  
  
Kimblee was alone again.  
  
He turned back to his book, but somehow could only manage to read the same line ten times; it’s funny how much that ridiculous _kiss_ had affected him...  
  
Kimblee’s hand ventured to his mouth at the thought of it. He’d enjoyed that, and he was surprised that he had-- he normally cared nothing for base desires, reveling in the abstracts of war and destruction.  
  
Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that he was special, very special to Envy. There was something deeply satisfying about such a revelation, a notion to keep hidden away in remembrance for ages to come.  
  
He would have to remember it; it would never happen again. Returned to their ordinary state, Envy would never stoop so low again. They were too proud for that, and he was too human.  
  
But it was a memory, at least.  
  
Kimblee let a half-smile cross his lips, and picked up his coffee cup.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double-whammy here-- not only is it their "first kiss," but it's also the first one I've ever written... (kill me now).
> 
> This one went through so many drafts, honestly; I wrote the first version of this story back in April, from only Kimblee's point of view. It was just a shallow little thing, honestly, but I decided to re-work it for the rarepair week. I'm still not happy with it... but I never will be, so I decided to just put it up.
> 
> By the way, this one won't be canon with my other Kimvy stuff, if you're following that; it's more of a one-off AU (although their past together can still be assumed).
> 
> Thank you so much for reading this!


	3. A Chamber of Horrors, Made Just for Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for day five of the rarepair week, under the theme "Apocalypse AU." I think that I managed to incorporate the "Fun with Alchemy" bonus theme too, in a sick sort of way.
> 
> Warning: it's an apocalypse. I didn't describe anything all that graphically (I'm not brave enough for that in any case), but... people died. It's pretty abstract, though, so hopefully it doesn't offend anybody's sensibilities.

“Now, isn’t this beautiful? My greatest work.”  
  
If I was anybody else, I would be horrified. The sky is dark with smoke, the moon is red, the air is heavy with the stench of dead things, sulfur, and iron.  
  
The dead lie there on the leveled plain, hollow shells, in pools of crimson.  
  
It’s the end of all things. The Apocalypse.  
  
It’s beautiful.  
  
“I always knew you were special,” I say, breathless. In a move more bold than I can really justify, I grab his hand suddenly, holding on for dear life, just staring out over the land in awe. I feel so small compared to this destruction.  
  
Of course, I’m so much better than him, still…  
  
But I couldn’t have done this.  
  
Kimblee shrugs (oh, so modest). “Not special. Normal, now. We’re the new normal.”  
  
That’s right. We’re the only ones left. We won.  
  
“Father’s going to be angry,” I say, suddenly. “He… he’s going to be furious.”  
  
But… I don’t really care now.  
  
It then occurs to me that he might not have survived this. Maybe Lust didn’t survive either, or Gluttony, or anybody.  
  
I feel distinctly unperturbed, but I may as well ask. “Hey. Did my-- did the other homunculi make it?”  
  
Kimblee shares my uninterested expression. “They may have. It depends on where they were at the time of detonation.” He smiles wanly. “Are you upset?”  
  
“Well…” I’m still holding his hand, but it would be strange to let go of it now. “It might be a little boring. A whole world, and only two people left in it.”  
  
“Yes,” Kimblee sighs. “But I’m sure that we can find _something_ to do. We could kill each other, for instance.”  
  
Well, it might be fun to kill him… however, I don’t relish the idea of being blown to bits, myself-- and it would be a one-time thrill, over and done with in an instant.  
  
“What’s the point in that?” I ask, laughing. “Anyway, if I killed you, I’d be all alone, and worse off than before.”  
  
“The fun of it,” begins Kimblee, sitting down and dragging me into the dirt with him, “of there only being the two of us, I mean, is that we can begin our own world order, if you want to. A world where my existence and your existence are the enviable existences, the ones that everyone wants.” Then he shrugs. “Or we could die now. It’s your choice; I’m indifferent, but I’d rather not linger here if we don’t plan on doing anything interesting.”  
  
Kimblee was right in calling what he did a masterpiece. There’s so much to look at: unstable cliffs crumbling, swirling clouds and smoke, delayed chemical reactions that explode without warning in the distance-- all valid distractions from what he’s suggesting.  
  
Finally, I clear my throat, looking back at him. “I think we can work something out…”  
  
Does he have to look so pleased? It’s ridiculous, that grin, but there’s never been another human with a smile so contagious… “My dear, I’m so glad,” he says, placing his other hand on top of mine. He looks down at our clasped hands, and I do too, and we admire the way that they fit together so remarkably well…  
  
It’s desolation, everywhere, it’s destruction, but we have all the time in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was kind of weird... I decided to try experimenting with first person, and it... sort of worked? It's always easy for me to get into Envy's head (perhaps a little too easy). This didn't really turn out like I had hoped-- I had a picture of them in my mind, just standing together at the End of the World, and tried to put it into words.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	4. Useless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for day seven of the rarepair week. I picked the theme "Pretend I didn't just say that" for this one.

The first night is not so bad, not really. He’s still high on adrenaline; his heart is still beating madly. He can taste death in his mouth, still; it keeps coming up, despite himself, coming out in bursting coughs, staining the white sheets… but he really can’t let that stop him. He thinks about that iron taste in a positive way: it’s something good, something nostalgic, something that will fuel him, and make him better, so he can go back out and complete his job.  
  
His job… that’s what he _has_ to do; it’s what he was let out for; it’s his mission, his responsibility.  
  
He can’t go out like this.  
  
The night is more bad than Kimblee wants to admit.  
  
_Pathetic… useless… good-for-nothing… do you know how to do anything right?_  
  
It’s irrational, oh, so irrational, but he can’t stop the voice from saying what it will.  
  
Pain will occasionally flare through him, without warning, and he tries to think of it in a good way; he tries to enjoy it, but he’s only deceiving himself; the rhythm of it all, which becomes more evident with every pang, is the footfall of Death, coming closer, ready to drag him down to Sheol...  
  
What if he doesn’t make it?  
  
It’s too soon to say; tomorrow night, he’ll know for certain.  
  
The wind blows in through the window, ruffling his hair, but it’s warmer than he would expect from the North; it combs through it, quite gently, teasing through the tangled strands with clumsy care; it whispers quiet, unintelligible words, and the pain starts to dull, ever so slightly.  
  
In all probability, he could actually sleep now…

* * *

 

The second night, it’s less thrilling, and Kimblee’s hanging on by a thread.  
  
He’d faded in and out of consciousness the entire day, and now he’s somewhere in between in and out, standing in the doorway of clarity; to the point that he can hear and vaguely understand the arguments that the nurses are having, about how nobody has his blood type and there’s no available donors, and that he might not make it through the night.  
  
He hates to think that they might actually pity him. To be pitiable is the worst offence.  
  
The stabs of pain are gone; or, rather, they’re continuous; it’s as if there’s just a steady burning. It’s _infection_ , a trait that people used to attribute to him, how he’d spread his disease wherever he went.  
  
The wind blows across him again, this time cool against his burning cheek (but he needs to stop deceiving himself now; it’s obviously not the wind, not this time; it’s _somebody_ , and he’s too weak to see it).  
  
“What’s _wrong_ with you? What’s taking so long?” The slender fingers stroke at his cheek all the more gently, despite the harsh tone of voice that he hears from the end of the tunnel. “I never thought you’d be so useless. You’re a _disappointment_ , that’s what. Disposable wretch. I should have gotten rid of you long ago.”  
  
Such harsh words.  
  
It's exactly what he's always striven for-- to never hear these words.  
  
“You’re _useless_ ,” says the whisper, and lips that are somehow warmer than his fevered face press hastily against his temple.  
  
And then he’s alone again; alone and useless.

* * *

 

“The doctor’s coming, okay?”  
  
It’s the third night, and Kimblee thinks that things are improving. At least, he’s able to focus on what people are saying. He’s not going to die; he’s sure of that.  
  
“It… just took some convincing Father,” mutters the sylph perched on the edge of the bed. “‘Cause he didn’t really think that you were worth it. But… you’re not completely useless. Not entirely. But you’re still foolish, and pathetic, and weak, and if you do this again…” A chuckle. “Well, I don’t know. I can’t get you out of every scrape you get into, I hope you realize.”  
  
Kimblee doesn’t say anything; there’s nothing to say. He’d like to argue, he’d like to protest, to say that he’s not useless in the least, that he is an asset to the cause, but there’s no way that he can protest such a thing; it’s obvious that he is human, far too human to be of any use at all.  
  
He doesn’t have the strength, in any case.  
  
Envy (yes, it’s Envy, his greatest fear and deepest fascination) goes silent, and all that he can hear is his heart beating in his ears, and the sound of Envy’s rapid breathing, in and out. Finally, he feels them slip off of the edge of the bed, crawling along the floor beside him, leaning up, and whispering into his ear. “Kimblee? Are you awake?”  
  
It’s funny; he is awake, but he doesn’t feel like he is; it feels like a dream.  
  
“I should have known better,” they mutter. “They’re all the same. Every single one. They’re all the same. I was a fool to think that you were any better than that.”  
  
He could be useful to them; he knows that he could be useful, but unlike these immortals, Kimblee has no room for mistakes. That’s what hurts most of all; that shocking, tearing blow to his fragile pride. He’s more of a liability than anything else, isn’t he?  
  
“Just hold on ‘till tomorrow, ‘kay?” Envy whispers. “Our doctor’s coming, and he’s got a stone; you’ll be back on your feet in no time. I’ve gone through an awful lot of trouble for you, so you’d better be grateful, useless. I wouldn’t do this for anyone else, so--” They stop dead, and Kimblee hears their breaths speed up, shakier than before. “I… I _hate_ you. F… forget that I said anything. I… I’ve got things… things to do…”  
  
Their feet slap clumsily against the floor; he can hear every step as Envy flees. And then he’s alone again.  
  
Alone and useless.  
  
But not forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Distant Glory wrote a meeting between Kimblee and Envy at the hospital, named "Visiting Hours;" it's the story that got me into this ship, so I'd highly recommend it! Of course, after reading that, I had to do my own take on hospital!Kimvy. I had a lot of fun writing this one-- it's probably my favourite out of all of the things I wrote for this week. It's fun playing around with an unreliable narrator.
> 
> Kimvy is, out of all of the Envy ships, and probably the Kimblee ones as well (I think) one of the most equal in terms of power; in fact, that's one of the reasons why I originally considered the ship. Kimblee's a talented alchemist, Envy's an immortal artificial human; they're both nasty, sadistic, evil people who can have evil fun together. But, as I worked on developing their relationship over these last several months, I realized that it's far from equal. Kimblee is still a human, and Envy hates humans-- their failings are so easily apparent, as compared to a homunculus who can heal instantly, for example... Envy's instant reaction (to anybody, not just to Kimblee) is to belittle and to mock, in order to boost their own easily-bruised ego. There is still a long way to go before Kimvy resembles any kind of "healthy" relationship, I think-- it will never happen in canon. The only point that it could have happened would be just before Envy died, when they realized that humans are useful, and precious, in their own ways.
> 
> ...now I've made myself sad. But they're still a wonderfully fun relationship to explore, and maybe, in some 64K-AU in the far far future, I'll manage to make them take some steps towards equality...
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!


End file.
